


Lost and Found

by DraconianLotus



Category: The Two Princes (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Dark Amir, M/M, Malkia is terrible, Rupert Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconianLotus/pseuds/DraconianLotus
Summary: “Don’t worry, princeling,” Malkia coos. She towers over him, a wall of lost souls at her back. “Your death won’t be in vain. In fact, you have the great honour of knowing that your blood will make me and my army utterly invincible.”She leans down, lips pressed against his ear. He feels her breath across his cheek. The rolling shadows swirl around Rupert, blocking out the light from the windows and casting him in darkness. His head begins to spin.“How fitting,” Malkia whispers. “That you, the son of my greatest enemy, should be the instrument of my sweetest revenge.” She turns, hand outstreached, to Amir. “Give me the sword.”An AU where Malkia is a lot darker, Cecily is a minute too late, Amir loses his mind, and Rupert pays the price.
Relationships: Prince Amir/Prince Rupert (Two Princes Podcast)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> The two princes is a production of Gimlet Media. I don’t own the Two Princes or any of the characters. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a short oneshot that got away from me and grew into something else. I’ve set the East Kingdom in an alternate Iran-Afghanistan, based on the origins of Amir and Queen Atossa’s names and the descriptions of the kingdom in the podcast. I’ve done my best with translations but if there is an error let me know ☺

i.

The castle of the Heartland is a shadow of what it had been, its crumbling walls and turrets straining against the force of standing. Rupert is unable to tear his eyes away from the jagged crack in the centre of the courtyard, tripping over his feet and causing Percy to roughly shove him forward as they passed. How had it come to this? Only three weeks ago, Rupert had been far too busy consulting their architects and surveying the progress of building to take a breath. His days had been a whirlwind that made him collapse into bed each night with a bone deep contentment that he was rewriting the wrongs his father had caused.

Now, the passages are empty. Before they were swarmed with an army of servants and pages, bustling with activity and preparations for the wedding. The air is heavy and still as they walk, and Rupert’s head spins with the fetid smell of Malkia’s magic filling the rooms.

Now, the castle is full of a different army. Shadows dance at the corner of Rupert’s vision as he is dragged along. The ghosts of the long dead sigh and moan, and he can feel them draw closer if he looks too long. The hairs in the back of his neck stand on end and he knows the ghosts are just out of sight, their lost souls walking the Midlands again. This was not how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to be slipping a ring onto his husband’s finger and promising to be there is sickness and health. 

Now, Amir– 

Amir is two paces ahead at the front of the party, enchanted sword in the scabbard at his waist. Rupert’s eye are drawn to his broad shoulders, the curl of wiry hair at his nape, and clenches his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. His fiancé had been cold since the cave. His face had become shadowed and gaze distant, as if looking through a mist. It makes Rupert’s heart break, even more than when Chad had tried to sacrifice him to save himself. 

_I told you I’m no hero._

As if he could feel Rupert’s eyes, Amir suddenly looks over his shoulder at him. Was it the dim lighting, or were his eyes….red? But Amir turns back around and Rupert shakes his head. The magic must be affecting him. 

Like the rest of the castle, the Throne Room is dark and silent. As Percy forces him to his knees and the rope around his wrists cuts into his skin, Rupert takes in this castle – his castle – with tears in his eyes. 

Malkia is lounging in Rupert’s throne, mouth quirked and eyes glittering pools of blood. The shadows behind her are dark and more pronounced, rolling and sparking like smoke from a fire.

“Well, well, well, princeling. Welcome back.”

ii.

“Look at this room!”

Rupert spins around in excitement. He sees Amir shaking his head fondly, but he can’t help the informality. This is going to be their throne room, ruling together. The builders have been working for months to get to this point and their work has paid off. 

“What does your Majesty think of the progress so far?” 

Rupert spins around again, taking it all in. The room is large enough to comfortably house the whole court without being imposing. The walls are a warm stone lit by the large stained glass window, which is positioned behind the dais where the thrones will sit. The scene depicts two kingdoms coming together to prosper under a golden age. At the centre are two small figures intertwined with a single crown above them. Rupert has designed it himself, privately thankful that his mother had put her foot down and insisted he attend art lessons as a child. He doesn’t have the experience that Amir had in leading, but he knows people. This window would be a symbol for all who entered and stood before them, a sign of hope and connection and love. And if it made Amir blush and duck his head every time he saw it, even better. 

“Ahem.”

The sound calls Rupert back to the present. The head builder is standing by his elbow with a bemused look on his face, waiting for a reply. 

“Oh, yeah, the progress is great! Keep it up!” Rupert enthuses. 

He hears Amir snort quietly. “متشکرم, Master Lajani. We thank you for your craftsmanship and effort.” 

“Your Majesties.” Master Lajani bows slightly, and makes his way back to the table in the center of the room strewn with architectural plans. 

“That was very princely of you,” Rupert comments, his voice low. He slides a little closer to Amir, watches as the head builder shout instructions to the workers about the room.

His fiancé rolls his eyes. “ Well I have to make up for your absolute lack of protocol. The East won’t know what to do with you.”

“It’s not the East anymore,” Rupert protests, grabbing Amir’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. “ It’s not you or me, its us. East and West living together side by side.”

Amir’s smile is soft and slow. He glances around, but the builders are busy with their tasks. “Come here. I want to shown you something.” He pulls Rupert off to a wooden door that leads to a small reception chamber. 

“What is it?” Rupert asks once they are through, the door swinging shut behind him. “What did you–?”

He suddenly finds himself pressed up against the wall. Amir is kissing him, softly, slowly. Rupert sighs into it, answering the kiss enthusiastically. His hands fist into the silky fabric of his fiancé’s shirt, and Amir pushes into him so there is no space left between their bodies. Rupert can feel the hard line of his torso, the warm hand skimming his ribs, and his face is hot when they break apart. 

Amir’s eyes are flecked with black and caramel. He licks his lips as Rupert breathes heavily. 

“ _Wow._ You can show me something anytime,” Rupert says, then blushes at the innuendo. “I mean, not something like that, although I wouldn’t say no, expect maybe not in this room, but that’s not what I–”

A hand covers his mouth. Amir grins at him in the same special way he does when he calls Rupert a handful and then tells him he’s overreacting. 

“What?”

Amir drops his hand to Rupert’s chest, and his expression is so sweet and earnest that Rupert melts. “Seriously, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

Rupert thinks, _you’ve unlocked something in me_ ; and _how have I lived until now without kissing you_ ; and _you’re going to be a wonderful king_. 

Instead he says, “I’ll race you to the stables. Sir Joan wants us to go over the designs.”

Amir grins at him, full of promise. “You’re on.”

iii.

Malkia leans forward on the throne. “Isn’t this an–”

“Interesting turn of events?” Rupert bites back despite the fear in his stomach, coiled tightly like a sleeping dragon. He hates being like this, at her mercy. Weak and defenceless, like he has been his whole life. But the image of his people running from this monster blooms in his mind and Rupert gathers the remnants of his courage. “Yeah, Percy did that bit back at the cave. Maybe the two of you should coordinate your ironic gloating.”

“Oh, uh, well–” Percy splutters, chest puffing as he turns to Malkia and clenches his sword hilt. “We weren’t able to apprehend the witch, Your Majesty, she slipped away before my men could grab her. But don’t worry!” He sweeps into such a low bow Rupert thinks he might topple over. “She won’t get far!”

Malkia’s eyes never leave Rupert’s. Her expression reminds him of the tomcat that lives in the kitchen in his mother’s palace. Ready to play with her food.

“Thank you, Percy. That will be all.” 

The pompous knight bows again, sneers at Rupert, and strides out. The doors to the Throne Room slam shut behind him.

Amir steps forward. “In the meantime, we were able to confiscate this.” He draws the enchanted sword, movement jerky. The scrape of metal rings out across the room. 

Malkia claps in delight. “Well done, Amir! You’ve certainly proven yourself today. As for you, princeling, tell me the name of the witch who’s been helping you?”

“I don’t know her name,” Rupert admits. “And even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” Amir blank mask twitches, and Rupert’s eyes snap to his. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Better yet, why wasn’t he reacting at all? Unless… “But since we’re demanding answers, why don’t you tell me what you did to Amir?”

Malkia’s smile is slow. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I know you’ve brainwashed him.” An idea form in his mind, and he hopes he isn't' right. “Or put a spell on him.”

Her laugh is terrible, full of the madness of eighteen years of isolation. The shadows around her flicker, solidify, and dissipate with sparks of red electricity. “Oh poor princeling,” Malkia mocks. “I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken. It was Amir who came to me and offered his services of his _own free will._ ” 

Rupert doesn’t believe her for one second. Why else would Chad turn him in, sell him out, act so out of character from the young man he’d met in the forest three months ago? “Amir would never do that.”

The still air stirs. Malkia leans back in the throne and flicks her fingers at Amir. 

Rupert feels prickling up his arms, and the cloying smell of magic as thick as smog. His knees are aching and his arms are burning, but he struggles to his feet as Amir suddenly becomes animated again. 

His fiancé turns stiffly to him, a puppet on strings. “No, Amir wouldn’t do that. But like I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not Amir. Maybe now you’ll believe me.”

“No, no, that’s not true!” Rupert stumbles forward until he is right in front of his fiancé. He pushes his bound hands against Amir’s chest, pressing into his heart. “Amir, _please_ ,” he begs. “ _Fight it. Fight her_.”

Amir’s irises burn red, and his expression twists into something Rupert has never seen before. Shadows stick to his jacket, fray off his collar, weave through his hair. “You know, I realized you were right. I’m a new person now and I have to live my life the way I think is best. I’m lucky that Malkia stepped in before I married someone as pathetic as you.”

Rupert reels back. He knows these are Malkia’s words, that the real Amir doesn’t think these things, but he can’t help the tears gathering in his eyes. He wipes them away angrily. This is no time to show weakness.

Amir raises his arms. “And now that I don’t have to deal with you anymore, I can be the prince I was always meant to be. After all, my Queen will need someone to keep the East in line once she’s conquered it.”

Rupert whirls around to face the throne. “So that’s your plan, Malkia? Percy is your figurehead the West, Amir in the East, and you calling the shots without lifting a finger. ”

“From my beautiful Midlands. Precisely. My army stands ready to march out in every direction and crush all who stand against me.” Malkia finally stands from the throne. The shadows spiral away from her as the room tremors. 

Rupert’s heart is in his throat. He sways, her magic forcing him to his knees again. _She’s insane. And my father made her into this._

Malkia glides towards him. “I just need one final ingredient to guarantee my success.”

“Perhaps you’d like to use this?” Amir is at her side, his expression vicious. He holds out the enchanted sword, hilt first. Blood drips from his palm down the blade. 

“Oh, Amir. Such a naughty boy. We’re going to get along quite well.”

Rupert’s thoughts are whirling, his mind like molasses. “Wh–what are you going to do with that sword?”

“Don’t worry, princeling,” Malkia coos. She towers over him, a wall of lost souls at her back. “Your death won’t be in vain. In fact, you have the great honour of knowing that your blood will make me and my army _utterly_ invincible.” She leans down, lips pressed against his ear. He feels her breath across his cheek. The rolling shadows swirl around Rupert, blocking out the light from the windows and casting him in darkness. His head begins to spin.

“How fitting,” Malkia whispers. “That you, the son of my greatest enemy, should be the instrument of my sweetest revenge.” She turns, hand outstretched to Amir. “Give me the sword.”

“No, no! Amir! Snap out of it! Please!” 

Any moment now, Amir will shake his head and come to his senses. He will break the spell and defeat Malkia. He will sweep Rupert into his arms and Rupert will kiss him until he forgets his name. 

But his fiancé hands her the sword and steps back. His eyes are dull and red. 

The new queen of the Heartlands raises the weapon. 

_I won’t fail. I promise. Whatever it takes I will stop Malkia._

It’s time to be the prince he’d been telling Chad to be. He drinks in Amir, memorizes his dark curls, the faint freckles against his dark skin. _I tried,_ he thinks. _I’m sorry. I love you._

Malkia moves forward as Rupert lunges up, ripping the amulet off her neck with a snap of metal as the sword sinks into his chest.

He has never felt pain like this. 

The amulet slips from his fingers and skitters away across the stone floor and Malkia shrieks as suddenly the world breaks into a cacophony of noise. 

Rupert tastes blood in the back of his throat. His chest aches with pain as an uncomfortable heat races through his limbs. His lungs don’t seem to be working, and he gasps for breath as he crashes down. The floor is cool against his cheek.

“Rupert?” 

Rupert wrenches his eyelids open. The world is blurred, but there is his center, his guiding light. Amir stands over him, blinking in confusions as the red leaves his eyes.

“ **Rupert!** ”

He sinks into oblivion. 

iv.

Rupert expects to wake up with Amir’s arms around him, morning light streaming through the panes. So when he squints open his eyes to darkness and reaches across the sheets, he grumbles when he finds his fiancé’s side of the bed is empty. 

Rupert finds him on the balcony. The night is sharp and cold and Rupert thinks about the warm blankets on their bed. Oh well. It can’t be helped now.

Amir is staring out over the city, although Rupert doesn’t think he is actually seeing anything. They are staying at the Western castle while the builders bring their vision to life in the Heartlands. The day has been full of meetings and packing in preparation for the journey to their new home in a fortnight. Amir has been the perfect prince throughout everything, gracious, humble, and focused on their goal. 

But tonight is different. Amir is tense and unmoving as Rupert wraps his arms around him. He buries his face into Amir’s back, feels the ridges of his spine and traces circles into the soft skin above his hipbone. “What are you thinking about?”

He feels his fiancé take a deep breath, chest pressing against the circle of his arms. He grabs Rupert’s hands but doesn’t turn around. 

“Amir?” 

Something is obviously wrong. Although he likes to pretend he is perfect, Rupert knows that Amir had many insecurities. With the upcoming wedding and creation of their new kingdom, the Western prince has been working himself into the ground to make sure their people will have a bright future. And although he won’t admit it, Rupert knows that Amir struggles to talk about what he feels. 

“I almost lost you.”

Rupert raises his head, confused. “I mean, those tailors weren’t that bad. Although you might lose me once I put on the wedding outfit my mother has planned and I drown in bows and frills.”

Amir shakes his head and turns around. Rupert feels the grip on his hands tighten, sees the clench of Amir’s jaw. “No. In the Hollow. I almost lost you. I listened to our fathers and I almost made the worst mistake of my life.”

Rupert blinks. “But you didn’t lose me. And our fathers are long gone.”

After their return from the forest, their mothers had sat them down and told their sons the truth about the type of men their fathers were. Amir and Rupert had decided then to do everything in their power to never become the monsters their father’s had been. They spoke about their feelings, reaffirmed their love, and promised to hold each other accountable for every future action they took that would affect their new kingdom. Rupert thought that had been enough. But the tense look on Amir’s face tells him it isn’t. 

“What if I make a mistake?” Amir’s voice is soft, and his eyes are fixed on their hands. “We have a responsibility to our people to not repeat history. What if something happens and you get hurt and I–?” 

The unspoken words hang between them. _And I do something terrible._

And suddenly Rupert understands. The pressure from their people is nothing to the pressure Amir puts on himself. Rupert smiles. “You might. But I’ll be here to call you bossy and self-entitled and keep you in line.”

Amir chuckles. He kisses Rupert’s forehead and hugs him into his chest. “You should go back to bed. You have to review the new policies for the Heartland that the Lord Chamberlain has drafted tomorrow.” But Amir’s brown eyes are worried and he is holding Rupert a little to tightly. 

“Well, that’s tomorrow,” Rupert finally answers. “Tonight, all of me is for you.”

Amir swoops down and crashes their lips together. Rupert leans into the kiss, threading his fingers through Amir’s rough curls and breathing him in. He feels Amir’s hands skim his ribs and pull him closer, warm through the material of his thin tunic. Rupert sighs when they break away. 

Amir buries in face into Rupert’s neck. “Thank you, زندگی من.” He plants a kiss there, and Rupert shivers. 

They stand together, entwined, and watch the stars move across the sky. 

v.

It takes twenty steps to pace the cell. 

It is first clear thought in Amir’s mind since agreeing to Malkia’s deal. The last three weeks are a haze colours and emotions ( _he is holding broken glass and threatening a tavern of people, but those are not his hands and he can’t stop them moving_ ). Was the haunting song in his head reality or a dream ( _and if it was real how could face Rupert again with broken promises of love on his lips_ )? 

It has been a day since the red faded from his vision to reveal Rupert sprawled on the floor of their Throne Room, blood seeping across the flagstones. A day since Malkia wailed in rage as she dropped the enchanted sword and lunged for her amulet. A day since Lady Cecily and Sir Joan burst through the double doors, only seconds too late. It is only later that he remembers Joan sweeping the fallen sword off the floor and arching it over her head to smash the amulet, shattering it into oblivion ( _and it is five pace to the door, ten paces to the cot, turn, repeat until he is exhausted, until the walls don’t feel like they are closing in on him and he can’t remembers what Rupert’s blood feels like on his hands_ ).

It is another two hours before someone comes to get him. 

Sir Joan is quiet as she explains what happened. That Malkia is no more and Percy has fled with his few disloyal knights. “We had to make sure you weren’t still under her spell, Your Majesty.”

Amir nods woodenly as she unlocks the cell door. “And Rupert? Is he…?”

Joan is silent. Finally, she says, “I’ll take you to him.”

They do not speak on the way to his bedchamber. At the door, Joan stops him. “Queen Lavina and Queen Atossa will be here within the day.” She turns her back to him, prepares to stand guard. 

Amir murmurs his thanks and pushes open the door. 

Rupert is too still. Amir panics until he sees the gentle rise and fall of his chest, feels the strong beat of his pulse in his wrist. He sits on the edge of their bed and brushes the damp hair off Rupert’s forehead. When can bring himself to look, he darts his eyes to Rupert’s chest. The skin is smooth and unblemished, and slight pink scar the only evidence of Malkia’s actions.

Amir takes his fiancé’s hand. “I am so sorry, زندگی من.” He is surprised when tears drip onto his fingers. “I promised to always protect you.”

Rupert simply breathes in response. 

Amir knows that he can be arrogant and bossy. He micromanages and makes lists and organizes until his thoughts settle and he can move past his emotions. But this failure is too monumental to forgive. He curls into Rupert’s side, his boots leaving streaks of dirt across the covers, buries his head in Rupert’s neck and shakes apart until sleep takes him.

vi.

_Amir falls to his knees, and his hands move without his control (but they are his hands, this isn’t a dream, or is it) to Rupert’s face, checking his breathing, putting pressure on the hole in his chest. The shadows that have kept him under Malkia’s hold loosen, begin to unwind and he can feel their pain. They wail and moan over the sound of battle, and Amir somehow knows they are mourning the loss of a new world._

_Malkia’s magic is still in his veins, filling his head with fog and he screams wordlessly at the rolling sparking mass. He can feel them, thousands of souls from a kingdom lost to violence and war. They are pinpricks of light behind his eyes and he sweeps his thumbs across Rupert’s cheeks, leaving streaks of red behind._

_“Please,” he whispers. He closes his eyes. The pinpricks burn gold, swirling behind his eyelids. “Save him.”_

_The voice is no more than a whisper, almost drowned by the beating of his heart. “Balance will be restored.”_

vii.

Consciousness comes to Rupert in pieces. He is aware of an ache in his chest and warmth at his side. There is an arm carefully draped across his stomach, and he can feel soft puffs of breath against his throat. 

_Amir._

He looks down and meets his fiancé’s eye. After a beat, Amir looks away. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Confused. You were under Malkia’s spell and then…” Rupert feels Amir flinch at the name. “What happened?” 

Amir takes his time, does not move from where he is curled at Rupert’s side. “Sir Joan and Lady Cecily rallied the knights. They were able to take back the palace.”

Rupert blinks. This is cause for celebration, but his fiancé simply curls in on himself as he speaks. 

“How did you break the spell?”

Amir sits up and moves away across the covers. His face twists into a mask of anguish. “How can you even speak to me after what I’ve done?”

“What?” Rupert sits up too. The movement makes his head swim and sends sparks of pain across his skin, but he swallows the nausea, determined to stay upright. “What do you mean? Amir, you were under a spell. You had no choice.”

“That **doesn’t** excuse anything!” Amir is on his feet now. His face is flushed and his hands are shaking. “I was terrible to you for three weeks. I was a coward, I tried to betray you, I abandoned you and sold you out to Percy!” He pulls at his hair. “I helped Malkia try to kill you!”

Amir moves towards him, angry, and Rupert can’t help but flinch. Amir’s expression shutters but Rupert knows him too well, can see the pain in his eyes. 

“How can you still love me after this?”

The words hang between them. 

Rupert takes a deep breath. “Amir, I know that wasn't you, and I forgive you for it." But Amir's expression is still blank, so Rupert finds the words he has been saving for his wedding which no longer seem embarrassing to speak aloud. "I love you because you always try to micromanage me.”

“That doesn’t–”

“No! It’s my turn,” Rupert says, and Amir falls silent. “I love you because you’ll marry me even though I’m going to wear the most ridiculous outfit ever, and you’ll still call me handsome. I love you because you make me want wake up with you every day and fall asleep with you every night. I love you because you are opposite of me in almost every way, but you make me a better person and a better prince.”

Amir’s expression is caught somewhere between pain and awe.

“I love you because you are strong and good.” Rupert holds out his hand, palm up. An invitation. _I forgive you. I love you._

Finally, Amir closes the distance between them. He kisses Rupert’s palm and intertwines their fingers. He won’t meet his eyes again, but is staring at their hands. The silence isn’t so oppressive this time. 

Although he is reluctant to interrupt the quiet, Rupert does. “Malkia already separated us once. Don’t let her do it again.” 

A shake laugh that sounds like a sob passes through Amir’s lips, and he wraps his arms around Rupert’s waist. 

Rupert rests his cheek against his fiancé’s chest. He feels shaky and weak, but his heart is soaring. “I love you,” he whispers. “I forgive you.”  
Amir’s body shudders. The tension leaves his shoulders. “All of me is for you.”

They hold each other until suddenly Rupert gasps in pain. He breaks away and yanks up his tunic, running a hand across his chest. Instead of the wound he expected, there is nothing but a small scar. He stares at his skin, then at Amir. “How did you…?”

His fiancé smiles then, the special one reserved just for him. Amir presses a kiss to his temple, and carefully gathers Rupert into his arms. “Later. Sleep now, زندگی من.”

Together they lie back down and get under the covers. Rupert shuts his eyes, a smile on his lips. There will be conversations and explanations later. For now he is here, and Amir is at his side. 

Tomorrow will be a new day.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Zendegi e Man / زندگی من = my life  
> Moteshakeram/متشکرم = a formal way to say thank you.
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcomed!


End file.
